Dialogue of Stone
by Kate Lynn
Summary: “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant.” Empires rise and fall, and with them go their makers. From Darth Plagueis’s pupil Malnik to Emperor Palpatine, the life of Darth Sidious is revealed through his own ever so trustworthy words.


**Author:** Kate Lynn  
**Title:** Dialogue of Stone  
**Fandom:** Star Wars  
**Timeframe:** 70 BBY – 4 ABY  
**Summary:** "Tell all the Truth but tell it slant." Empires rise and fall, and with them go their makers. From Darth Plagueis's pupil Malnik to Emperor Palpatine, the life of Darth Sidious is revealed through his own ever so trustworthy words.  
**Rating:** This isn't M yet, but be warned. It's a dark fic. Palpatine isn't going to be a victimized snuggle bunny.  
**Chapters:** 01?  
**Disclaimer:** All canon Star Wars references are the creation and property of George Lucas. The opening summary quote is by Emily Dickinson from her poem of the same name.

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**Dialogue of Stone**

Chapter 01: With This Body

"I call an animal, a species, an individual corrupt,  
when it loses its instincts, when it chooses,  
when it prefers what is injurious to it."  
– Friedrich Nietzsche, _The Anti-Christ_

"Yet from those flames,  
No light, but rather darkness visible."  
- John Milton, _Paradise_ _Lost_

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"I don't know how he could deny the four accounts I gave him. It wasn't just anything. People don't take that great a joy in bragging about obliterating nothing. And not just bragging about destroying the city, but claiming they descended from there and going on and on about its beauty – am I right? Right. Anyway. So there is a landmark they all left behind that they each keep adding to, nothing you'd notice just passing by, but what else would really work? If it was noticeable the other groups would defile it. It'd be a matter of honor. They all say they're the ones with the right to the place, even though they know they're all descended from there. They just claim that the family member who broke off to found their respective society had a higher claim. One group refuses to acknowledge it with a word; the others call the land by the title given their founder: The Prophet Oblivion, The Atemporal Remains, and The Playful Eternal – each civilization in their history has a name for that specific spot. And they all share the same part of the story, the part about the Queen magicking her hands to remain those of a child, so she could stitch and mend and reach between anything. Some said she went blind in the process but that she didn't care. Why should she? She knew her work came out beautiful. Of course some said she accidentally let a trace of her acid spit mixed with her sweat reach her eyes when rubbing them and thus the devastating results. Others say that she was not blinded at all, just closed her eyes to protect herself and let her hands do the work."

He'd only just begun. His voice dropped lower and sped up noticeably, lagging only to draw out syllables denoting a foreign tongue.

"An encouraging try, Master Roldán. Quite showy to cover your lack of transition from the timelessness of nature's essential energy, which you did not in fact define or specifically mention in your retelling, to associating labels with impersonal touches. All you really did was reason down to a generic label and then wiggle back up with a mere cast aside to the finite and infinite sides of man."

Swagat finally drew in a breath. His back was so straight it seemed to wishfully be drawing him fully upright during his long retelling. This account was far from the first time he'd come home lamenting how oration had lost its character. His hazel eyes flicked over mine to settle on shifting between our parents' faces. Our mother gave an understanding nod. Her gaze as usual appeared cold, though any who knew her would know she was merely deep in thought. She was no doubt analyzing what she'd heard and giving it the languidly due consideration she gave everything, regardless of context or particulars.

"Shows what Jeora knows," our father replied with an indifferent shrug.

Swag merely slunk down as our mother sighed, "Dhiren." I had the suspicion it was the tone rather than the ambiguity of father's remark that truly irked her, since Swag would certainly not be hurt. As much as our father liked to leave his thought trails open, Swag enjoyed finding crumbs, or making them up should it come to that, to track down and tear each word apart.

The only thing Swag enjoyed more than rooting words was using them.

With that in mind I offered, "why not just say that oral history is a good source 'cause those who are directly related to whatever it is are on hand to lend their voices?"

Swagat's eyes narrowed, and then matched my innocent smile. "Because that's too simple to be any fun."

"It'd get you further," our father interrupted mildly, already looking lost in reading a news pad. His ability to multitask when appearing totally oblivious was no longer surprising. "Convolution in discourse won't buy you any friends at any university. Ask your mother." He always called her that in front of us; your mother, never Neha. Without pausing he added, "Even before she started field research." The mother in question, for her part, just raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing.

A shrug was my brother's response. "I'm not certain I'll stay there, anyway. Sitting in a room reading, who would wish to do that for years on end?"

"That's all you do here," I pointed out.

I was rewarded with a dismissive wave by him. "A sure sign I should be well on my way to something different. Something that's real work, with my hands." He turned an expectant look at our mother, clearly prodding a request with his gaze.

She gave a quick but firm shake of her head. "You've lovely hands, darling. Don't risk it by trying to use them." Patting one of his wrists she added, "Save clearing the table." Swag gave a sigh but did as he's told. Once he'd left the room my mother's gaze slid over the covered table to rest thoughtfully on me.

Wordlessly I pulled my sleeves over my hands. After her gaze became confused I solemnly said, "I'm saving them. Only the best kept ones will do for public service."

I earned a small smile at that. "Cute," she said.

"If poorly constructed," Swag added, coming back in to sweep up other used dishes. "You're old enough to start your public service? Since when?"

"Since I turned twelve. It's not hard to figure out," I said dryly. "Just think of your age first and count back from there."

Swagat's smile widened. "Oh, you're gonna love it, Mal."

"He will," father said absently, turning a page. "Lots of corpses."

We all stared at him until he finally looked up, blinked, and then sighed. "Malnik will love the service program and there are many bodies in the off-planet news this week." Somehow even though he hadn't made any sort of transition, I felt a flush of embarrassment for not having initially followed him, anyway. At least Swagat and mother hadn't, either.

Finishing off the dregs of Blossom wine in our father's glass before taking it away Swagat inquired, "Anyone stunning?"

"Not in the after pictures," was father's reply, causing the rest of us to crane our heads trying to see the pictures in front of him.

"Gross," I confirmed. "What are they going to do with them?"

"That would depend on who they were and what they did, wouldn't it?" my mother reasonably asked, to which I shrugged and replied, "It probably wouldn't be too hard to guess those things based on knowing what was going to be done with them." I paused, then admitted, "Of course, it could work the other way around, too."

"Still," father said, offering the pad to me, "What is to be done with them is probably the most pressing matter at the moment."

I accepted the reward and scrolled through it. "Some of the Minor Systems really don't want Vong's body back." I noticed Swagat's intrigued look and offered, "They're saying it's cursed."

Mom made a noise as close to a snort as she could come. "Rubbish." When I offered her the pad she added, "Oh, I believe _they_ believe it. But it's ridiculous. It's just a body. Not even ultimately a very productive one, really." The distaste she let show in her voice spoke more than the short blurb hinting at some of Vong's trial methods.

"It doesn't have to be true, mom," Swag said cheerfully. "I rather prefer that it isn't. It'll turn to legend quicker like that. Or parody. Either would be fine as long as it was done well."

I had no doubt my brother wouldn't be satisfied with the story as it stood now. The pad described Vong's funeral in only the briefest of detail. However modestly it had still been done as befit a Conn, the title given a moderate-level billing manager at a private office. Few still doubted the existence of the favors he'd granted to the endless marshalling of black market traders' trials. However, such activities were outside the boundaries of his menial job's filing tasks. They had reason to try him for treason, but not to fire him. And so, the story journalist clinically finished reporting, his headless body was given an employee's funeral and now hung in stasis. His family was not reachable for commenting. "You think they'll bring it here?" I asked my father. "Vong's body?"

"Why would they do that?" Swag cut in. "It's been sitting in space for three days and nobody's even tried to steal it."

"It has to go somewhere," I said reasonably. "And he clearly had some value if people are cursing him already."

"Naboo, final resting resort of failed convicts. Oh, brilliant." At that from Swag I ached to reply. However, it was clear from her gaze that our mother agreed with him, so I refrained and just turned back to my father.

My father, seeming to address the tablecloth in front of him more than me, responded, "I'd rather they didn't." At that I nod; that I could follow. It meant he thought yes.

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Several hours later I was in my room packing when Swagat leaned against the doorframe, watching. "You do realize you have at least a week left."

I paused, and then admitted, "I'm looking forward to it." I don't turn around, but I can feel Swag nodding. No glib remark followed this time; it was part of the inconsistency that was constant with Swag. He had the ability to sensitively pick up on the weight in someone's words and respect it. Or respect the words, not the person. It varied, and he didn't always follow it, anyway.

Continuing to fold, I waited. Sure enough Swagat restlessly entered, examining the shelves that line my room. "Reasonably clean," he remarked, making it sound like an insult.

I shrugged. "When things are too messy it makes me nervous. But it's a hassle to keep everything packed away."

"Mhm. And now moving on to something interesting…" Swag seated himself on my narrow bed, carefully watching me. I returned his gaze steadily as he said, "Let's go see it."

"See what?"

His smile widened. "Vong's body. I bet we could find it."

I stared at him. "I bet it's been a long time since you've had a date. Why would you want to find his body?"

"Because I've never seen a dead body before, and neither have you." His voice adopted its trained "practical" pitch as mom called it. "You're about to head off for your service duration and I'm off to do who knows what, and I think it'd be a nice send off for both of us."

"You mean it's a cracked idea that you think is original," I amended.

He shrugged. "Is it so very wrong to want to do something original?"

At that I paused. "I guess it depends."

His look turned curious. "What do you think would happen that's so bad?"

"Honestly? Nothing. I think we'd wander and feel pretty cold and dumb without getting anywhere." I saw his mouth open and said for him, "Or we could find something positively brilliant, up to and including a night in a cell."

"Well, it's not like I can share many first experiences with my brother." Impatience was getting to him. "Come on, Malnik. Not like mother will catch us."

At that I snorted. "Not like she'd care." At his puzzled look I shook my head. "D'you know anything about anyone that isn't yourself or some legend? Our mother's spent years on botanical field expeditions. Always on Naboo, but I think she'd welcome throwing us out of the house if you weren't left by yourself."

I had barely finished when he flung himself up and, pulling my arm and therefore myself along with him, exited our house. The fall season had left the night relatively cool and dry, for Naboo. The road immediately surrounding us was dimly lit and quiet. While located in Naboo's capitol we were snuggly pocketed on its outskirts, just outside mainstream activity.

I fell into step beside Swag, knowing our walking around was absurd in regards to finding Vong and yet not minding. It was odd to see my brother almost still once we were outside and walking, and it was more than enough to entertain me for the moment. I found myself openly watching him, causing him to become wary. "What? You're staring."

I gave a small shrug. "Most here look at people when with them. I would think someone like you would enjoy it."

"There's a difference between unabashed levelness from the general population and you. And I know I'm quite the attention hog, thank you." Neither of us pressed it further. I doubted he'd say anything serious to me, nor wish it in reply. It was often like that between us. One would call the other on something, and then let the point stand as just that. But really there was nothing more I could think of that needed to be spoken. What he'd said was true. I was hardly a stranger. I knew he had no reason to be cautious. There were no deep, shameful sins or gloriously misunderstood deeds hidden in his past. I doubted anything could be seen as more of a failure to Swag. Knowing I could drag it up at anytime I chose had to bother.

He led us to one of the university compounds. Much as the rest of our home planet, Nabooan design was all over it. It fit. The unspoken yet blatant isolationist attitude that permeated throughout most of the planet was more than evident if one had even a moderately observant eye. Doubtlessly the schools welcomed guest instructors from various systems, but the cultural impact of such intermingling was not yet too apparent. At least not within such established structures as government policies and projects, which the universities fell under. The students, however, were welcome to change according to Swagat. Our mother would then reply with a smile that once the students practiced the theories they were learning they'd come to understand why things were as they were. I had yet to voice any opinion on the matter, I didn't wish to be drawn into their battle when I hadn't yet decided exactly where I stood on the matter.

Actually, even then I really wouldn't wish to bother arguing with either of them.

A low white wall grooved with deep red enameled panes circled the front half of the three academic domes, parting only for a massive entranceway with similar designs. The walls sloped gently down to meet the entranceway. So carefully designed was it that up close it was difficult to tell where the slanting began but from a distance each side clearly dropped down to the figurative feet of each side of the opening. Swag easily stepped up onto the wall from where it stood two feet off the ground. He then walked up the slope until he was well above me, having a clearer view of another compound, two policy offices, and a landing platform. Swagat tilted his head back, arms stretching up and tempting his balance. His outline of dark clothing and hair meeting his pale skin stood out well when contrasted against the grays of the falling night. His indiscreet nature would've had nothing else.

After glancing around I wordlessly followed him. Silently we stared out into a horizon quickly dimming. Had I said that from this distance any planes we saw land could be carrying anyone and we wouldn't be able to tell, he'd only reply that that'd mean it could very well be Vong. And we'd both be right.

Finally he sat down and broke the silence. "Are you afraid of heights?"

I shook my head, settling down next to him. "Not really, no."

"I am. Kind of," he replied, still staring ahead. "I like knowing it."

"Well yeah, not exactly something you'd want to spring up on you at a ground-lacking moment," I concurred.

But he shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I like it because it's something I can keep testing, you know? I can feel like I've done something."

"It's a measure of self progress, I guess," I replied. "Without requiring a lot of effort. Climb onto our roof and be done for the day." I saw his look darken, so I couldn't resist adding, "And think, if you retiled while up there? Like a week of self-congratulatory victory laps. Which are slimming. Imaginary you is quite a catch."

"You know you weren't even worth putting up for adoption," was his reply, lacking its usual gameness and edge.

Dreading the thought of one of his moods, I switched approaches. "D'you think it was really magic? With the Queen?"

It took him a moment to think back to the tableside tale he'd shared. "Oh. No. I doubt it. Not magic in the sense that out of nothing Mazdayasna stunted her growth. But the story she got out of it is pretty special. Better than her having just been a midget, which some have said." He was quiet for a moment. "Of course, if she did something terrifically horrible to herself that could've been pretty impressive even if it required nothing uncommon."

"That's what I was wondering." The last of the regular evening shuttles seemed to be docking for the night. Three in smart, ordered precision landed on the distant platform, looking like little more than flitting bits of light. In the busy center of Naboo it was easy to lose those planes in the active nightscape if the mind drifted at all.

It was easy to lose them when they moved, that is. Slowly I noticed one light blinking, hovering but not landing. Not moving my eyes I reached over to tap my brother's arm to alert him. Whether he had been already looking I couldn't tell; neither of us said a word. Before I even think of a good explanation, the light turned blinding. The only word to describe it was heat rather than light, an enveloping wave that felt heavy with saturation and yet too dry to be able to breathe in, causing me to pant shallowly. Unconsciously my arm went up protectively, but there was nothing burning to be shielded from. I felt Swagat move and cautiously I looked up. There was no trace of an explosion or implosion left. We'd been far enough way to be spared damage, but that hadn't even been the cause.

I rose to stand beside my brother. The night seemed to have settled darker. As my eyes adjusted again I saw the platform still standing, with no debris scattering the sky. "What…"

"I know," my brother filled in as he drew in a breath. "What a _gyp_."

"We don't know it was a gyp. We don't even know what it was," I said slightly irritably as my mind raced, then backpedaled to look at him. "_You're_ calling an unexplained event a gyp?"

"Made you ask," was his automated reply, his eyes still looking out. As his arms folded around himself I realized that it had gotten colder, or we'd been still too long not to feel it.

I pulled my sleeves over my hands again and nudged him. "I don't think we'll get from that to anything standing here. Let's go back and be the first to spring the news at home."

Swag snorted. "You read into everything," he said, making it an insult.

It stung as an insult, even though it was a trait I took pride in. Defiantly I said nothing, finally just offering a mild, "oh."

At that he laughed. "For star's sake, you have that look again."

An indignant denial rested on my lips. However, I was curious so I bit back my sulk and replied, "What look?"

"That bland one mother gets when she wants to look like nothing is a big deal. So, her constant look. But when you do it, you look like a backwater half-wit who just doesn't get what's being talked about." He said this carelessly before finishing with, "don't worry. You couldn't sustain it for long."

"My mind just started thinking about how our parents stopped having younglings after me because I was finally the one they really wanted." It was petty. But I was younger. I felt justified. Without appealing to him first I turned and started walking back. It was dark enough that I had difficulty seeing much of the narrow wall I was walking on, but I didn't hesitate. I'd always had good enough balance, and I'd meant it when I'd said earlier that heights didn't much bother me. Idly I wondered if it'd be easier for one who was acrophobic to walk down now or when they had a clear view of the ground.

I heard him follow me. He walked down easily, but then, he'd walked up in the light easily as well. He might've made up the fear, I didn't know for certain. It seemed like something I should know.

Nearing the end I jumped the last few feet onto the ground, feeling my legs absorb the shock of impact the hard ground caused. My knees gave a little, bending to compromise the blow, and then I turned to wait for Swagat. Being taller, his jump from the same place was little more than a long step down, which he seemed to do with unthinking grace. His eyes carried over my head to one of several beings crossing the compound gates. Following his sightline I saw a squat, tan figure. It was difficult to discern its gender or shape, since what looked like folds of its own skin sagged or wrapped around it in lumpy covering. Without hair, fabric, or common markings styled in a manner I was accustomed to, I had little to go on.

Swagat clearly seemed to know, so instinctively I moved closer to him and a half-step behind, not even aware of it until he gave me a surprised half-smile. His hand fell on my arm for a quick pull forward, much more thoughtful than when he'd dragged me out of the house earlier. Still, however welcomed the gesture now was, both times had made me feel incomparably young and faintly embarrassed. When reaching the creature now waiting for us I pulled free, but that only made Swag sling his arm around my shoulders, his loud voice saying, "Tarul, I didn't know you were still planet side."

Tarul unblinkingly stared back at him. Two tusks adorned each side of his or her face above what appeared like nostril slits, and each tusk rotated almost lazily and out of sync as if to showcase languid thought processes. The voice was quick, though. "Reor-nil, Roldán. I am planet side once more." One of Tarul's limbs reached out to touch me and I managed not to flinch.

"My brother, Malnik. Tarul was something of a food processing engineer on campus awhile back." Swag's face stretched into a teasing smile. "I think catering was his true calling, though."

"Really?" I was surprised. I was used to seeing my brother associate with other students of history or linguistics, areas close to him. However, I wasn't shocked he knew many outside those fields; if it wasn't common to him he had to make it so. I took the hand-like limb into my own easily, keeping it away from my face while being polite. "Did you see the ship?"

Tarul paused, looking uncertain. "Which ship?"

I glanced back at Swagat, who shrugged, and I added, "The one that had some malfunction over landing 4. Probably a cargo carrier on its last run."

At Tarul's continued blank look Swag cut in, "Tarul never sees anything. At least not until it's made the news. He's my kind of man."

Him. Finally. I breezed over Swagat's last words since nearly anything, even contradictory things, could make someone Swag's kind. I could find nothing impressive about Tarul, read nothing from his appearance or attitude, and the possibility that Swagat - or anyone - could and I couldn't burned. The news comment along with a growing weariness made me wish to continue on home. "Nice to meet you." I turned away until my brother said he'd meet me at home. "You aren't coming?"

Swag shook his head. "It's early for me. And I wouldn't want Tarul to miss this chance to be graced with my presence. I'll be back later. Before you leave definitely, most likely."

"That's a week away, of course you'll be back by then." I was used to his flippant turns, and also how he often had nothing backing them more than a random whim. However, partly because I was so used to them they became more annoying.

He saw my face and laughed lightly. "Get to bed. You don't really want me to walk you home, do you?"

"No. I know the way." In honesty I hadn't come this way myself often, but I squashed any faint nerves and nodded at them. "Bye."

Swagat caught me by the sleeve. "It was fun, Mal. Whenever I possibly see a distant ship carrying a notorious dead foreign body have inexplicable and maybe hallucinatory mechanical trouble, I'll think of you."

"You'll be thinking of yourself thinking on it," I wryly point out. "But that much thinking'll probably hurt you, so I have my warm memory set." He was still smiling and I shared a small one back. Tarul merely nodded, his gaze discomfortingly fixated on me, but that might have been due to him not blinking. I gave a slight nod back before returning home, turning only once briefly to see Swagat and Tarul disappear among the few hurrying by and the coming night.

I managed well enough finding my way back, breathing a small sigh of relief before entering. I noticed both my parents seated at the kitchen table. They had half-finished drinks in front of them, but they didn't act like they'd been interrupted. Still quiet they simply looked up at me, my mother taking a sip from a steaming mug. Feeling a bit like I was presenting myself I said, "Swagat's staying out with a friend. We were watching cargo landings." I didn't add what we'd been looking for.

As if Swag's and my hanging out were a common occurrence rather than sporadic occasions they just nodded. "Enjoyable?" my father asked, eyes actually on me.

I gave a small nod, sliding into a seat beside him as my mother poured me a drink from one of three empty mugs situated on a small table nearby. "One ship looked like it had electrical failure or something, it was really bright, but when we looked back it looked like nothing had happened." I grasped the mug, its heat warming my hands and insides as I drank it. "Were you expecting company?"

They nodded, switching off seamlessly as my mother spoke this time. It always intrigued me, how they did that. They were so in sync at times, never speaking over each other or letting one fade into the background. "It's nearly festival week, lots of planning to happen. Especially since the house'll be empty this time."

I hadn't even really thought on that, but she was right. It was too soon after starting my service to visit, and Swag seemed to plan on leaving again as well. I couldn't think too long on it, though, as I suddenly went from weary to nearly passing out. Yawning, I said, "No one to use as slave labor to clean dishes."

They both smiled at that as my mother took my mug and waved me off. "This one can be good practice, then. To bed. Making guests step over younglings passed out on the floor is simply bad manners."

I smiled back and stood up, turning to my father. "Night." He was by now concentrating on his cup, distractedly nodding in reply. But I wasn't surprised when he finally did speak as I reached the door, saying, "Wasn't the body." My mother shushed him quite strongly but my smile just widened. As I washed and fell into bed I heard a new voice, clearly male and with a slow, crisp speech pattern. It, along with my parents' voices, sounded formal and stiff, a direct contrast to the active hum wafting through the walls from outside. Lying flat on my stomach, I couldn't help but wonder how things would sound wherever I was sent a few days from now. Even with tonight's oddness there were still aspects of the familiar. As much as I was ready to move on I felt unsettled, both to leave for the new and wondering what'd happen here during the time. Stubbornly pushing such thoughts aside I tried to refocus on the present. I'd discovered it usually worked to calm me. I tried to place it while waiting for other new visitors. There had been three extra mugs… unless two had been for Swagat and me. I wasn't sure, but before I could attempt to over think it sleep pulled me under.

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**Author's Note:** This story couldn't be done without the coolness of Emme Fatality, S. Maz, angeiofthenlght and Dibiasi, kindly SW gurus all. Next chapter: AgriCorps brings disgruntled Jedi fun during Malnik's service trip. Also, the art of legend-making sweeps through a cautious Naboo while Darth Plagueis begins to reap the benefits from his own plan for immortality.


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